The young priest stood at the church door, greeting his parishioners individually as they came out. Once again, he felt the service had been a tremendous success. He had been carried away by his own oratory and now realised, to his shame, that he had not thought of the old priest once during the entire ceremony. When the last of the congregation had left the church, he hitched up his surplice and made his way down the steps and across the square to Rosalba's shop. There he found the old man sleeping peacefully on Rosalba's couch, a beatific smile on his face. Rosalba herself was at the sink, washing out some rather unpleasant-looking cloths. She turned as he came in.
"An excellent service, Father," she said.
He stared at her, open-mouthed. She had not attended the service. How did she kn
